


Rhink Drabbles

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Episode Related, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Getting Together, Kids, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6192406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various little Rhink one-shots. Individual ratings in each chapter title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fear of Lightning - G

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [GMMore Man Struck by Lightning 7 Times](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bc-lOBEDYc)

Okay, so young Rhett and Link; it’s soon after they met, and Link hasn’t stayed with Loretta for a few years now but that kind of fear doesn’t just go away. So they’re at Rhett’s house and a storm starts blowing in, whipping up the late summer air something fierce, clouds dark and heavy in the sky. and Rhett, he’s so excited, wide-eyed watching the rain start to patter against the windows, but when he turns, expecting Link to be right beside him, he finds him huddled into a ball in the middle of the living room, facing away from the windows.

“Not s'posed to be near the windows in a thunderstorm,” he mumbles when Rhett sits down next to him, embarrassment hot on his cheeks, down the back of his neck. He doesn’t want Rhett to think he’s a baby, but he doesn’t wanna get struck by lightning either. Every time the thunder cracks, the sound rolling steadily closer, he flinches, hating himself with every jump.

“Okay,” Rhett says, instead of laughing like Link expects, and Link feels something tug in his chest at the kindness, something his eight years on the planet haven’t yet given him the words to describe. “Wanna build a fort?”

His smile is gap-toothed and genuine and Link mirrors it, feeling his cheeks stretching wide. They pull the cushions off the couch and raid the house for spare pillows and sheets, and once they’re secure inside their fortress, a flashlight standing in for a campfire and a box of ritz crackers to snack on, Link finds the roar of thunder doesn’t bother him so much. In fact, over Rhett’s infectious giggles, he can barely even hear the storm.


	2. Rumpology - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [GMM 864: 7 Bizarre Theories People Actually Believe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4e9DBXdXxAc).

“Hey, baby, wanna get your fortune told?” Rhett waggles his eyebrows up and down, grinning at Link like he hasn’t made the same joke six times today already.

“Ridiculous, man, you’re freakin’— _oof_!” Link responds, cut off mid eye-roll when Rhett reaches long arms around him and _squeezes_ , big hands palming each cheek, lifting Link up to his tiptoes. He windmills his arms to keep balance, flailing for a moment before grasping purchase on Rhett’s warm biceps. “Dang it, Rhett, we’re at work, you can’t just—”

“Hmm,” Rhett rumbles, completely ignoring him. Link presses his forehead to the center of Rhett’s chest, t-shirt soft against his skin, acquiescing, biting his lip to keep back a smile. Rhett squeezes again, softer now, taking his time, and makes small, approving noises as he explores, sounds that make Link warm and more than a little reckless.

“So,” Link asks, voice low, caution thrown to the wind, “what’s the future got in store for me?” He tilts his head back to look Rhett in the eye as he slides his hands up, over the curves of Rhett’s shoulders, fingers trailing up the sensitive skin of his neck, watching Rhett’s eyes go dark and hungry. He tangles his fingers in the soft hair at the base of Rhett’s neck, tugs _just_  a bit, grins when the tip of Rhett’s little pink tongue pokes out to wet his lips.

“Can’t say,” Rhett says, two fingers making their way under the waistband of Link’s briefs, caressing his overheated skin, making Link shiver. “Can’t tell too much through these tight jeans of yours.”

“You love ‘em,” Link shoots back; he’s caught Rhett checking him out often enough to know that.

“Never said I didn’t. Just like ‘em better off you, that’s all.” He grins when Link laughs, a little breathless. “So what d’you say, you wanna go do some more thorough _boopity-boop-boop-boop_  with me?”

Link tells Stevie they’re gonna be doing research in their office for the rest of the day, and not to disturb them unless the building is on fire. Stevie takes in Rhett’s messy hair and shit-eating grin, the way Link is breathing heavier than normal. Shaking her head, she slips on her headphones, turning her music up high.


	3. Rhett Is Link's Horse - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [GMMore: Rhett & Link Music on Reel-to-Reel Player](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ehiGsEVuy8).

The first smack is a shock, the second and third a surprise. By the fourth, Rhett’s already started moving, out from underneath Link’s warm, bony ass, away from the slap of his hand, because if he doesn’t get some distance between them things are gonna turn real embarrassing real quick. Link keeps going though, damn him, chasing Rhett’s ass as he lumbers away, and Rhett’s counting each sharp blow in his head out of habit. _Seven, thank you, sir. Eight, thank you, sir._

Then it’s over, quick as it started, Link chuckling as he unfolds himself from his precarious perch, settling himself on solid ground, and Rhett can _see_  the realization dawning in his eyes, the _did I actually do that in front of the camera_ , the _oh, shit_. At the same time, though Rhett doesn’t have a real good view from where he’s crouched off-screen, he wouldn’t be surprised if Link’s jeans were a little tighter than usual.

“Hey boss,” Rhett says, crawling back into frame, an attempt at levity, “I left without you.”Link’s weak, high giggle as he tries to play it off like it’s nothing makes Rhett laugh. Link is terrible at keeping his cool, his face betraying every emotion, mouth moving faster than his brain can keep up. Rhett loves it, takes advantage of it whenever he can.

“Alright! Welcome to Good Mythical More. What—what day is it? My hand’s hurtin’,” Link babbles, and Rhett can’t help but goad him just a little bit more, loving the flush that’s traveling up Link’s long neck.

“How many times did you hit me?” he asks, just to hear Link say it.

“Four, before your horse would git,” Link answers, still giggly and flustered, and Rhett just shakes his head, taking pity.

“I’m a stubborn horse,” he agrees, laughing. He’ll tell Link the real number later. He expects they’ll be adding to it anyway.


	4. Testing the Concert Poncho - T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on GMM 970: Testing the Concert Poncho.

The music they’re playing between comedians in this dump of a club is at least twice as loud as it needs to be for a space this size, and Link’s honestly thinking about just leaving even though they promised Candace they’d stay for her routine. When he gestures to the door with a raised eyebrow, though, Rhett just shakes his head and holds up one finger before disappearing into the crowd.

Shrugging, resigned to sticking around, Link turns back to face the stage, even though there’s nothing to look at, just a stool with a couple water bottles on it and a microphone.

He feels a presence behind him a split second before there’s an arm snaking its way around his torso, pressing a cold beer bottle, sweaty with condensation, against his sternum, the chill a welcome relief from the hot, stale air around them. Link jumps at the contact, turns to thank Rhett but is stopped by the soft pad of Rhett’s index finger pushing down on his tragus, freezing him on the spot.

Rhett’s breath washes warm against Link’s ear, raising goosebumps all down Link’s arms, and he’s thankful for the dim lights, thankful that Rhett’s behind him, unable to see his flushed face. “Here you go, brother,” Rhett murmurs, soft voice clear as a bell even through the din, “sorry, all they had was PBR.”

Link’s not even paying attention to the beer, because the pop of the ‘p’ has brought Rhett’s lips in contact with the rim of his ear, just for a second. To anyone else the exchange probably looks totally normal, just two guys trying to be heard over the noise of the room, but to link it’s shockingly intimate, and he can’t fight the shiver that rolls through him. Rhett’s arm, still pressing the beer bottle against Link’s chest, tightens almost imperceptibly.

“You okay?” Rhett asks, and Link bobs his head jerkily, over-eager, trying to prove it to himself as much as Rhett. All the motion does is bring his ear closer to Rhett’s mouth, the bristles of his beard scraping the thin skin, and suddenly Link’s grateful for the loud music because it swallows up the gasp he can’t help letting out.

Apparently it isn’t loud enough, though, or maybe Link’s body has betrayed him again, spine straightening or shoulders hitching or _something_ , because he feels Rhett chuckle, broad chest shaking as he leans in again, and now Link’s sure the scrape of his beard is entirely intentional, sure Rhett’s trying to make him lose his mind here in the middle of everybody.

When he speaks again—“what’s a good lookin’ fella like you doin’ in a dive like this, baby?”—Link’s done.

He turns and curves a hand around Rhett’s neck, pulling him down even as he raises up on his tiptoes. “We doin’ this here? Really?” he asks, not bothering with the tragus technique, deciding instead to press his lips directly against the warm skin of Rhett’s ear. He resists the urge to flick his tongue out and trace the rim, trying to keep some semblance of decency while they’re out in public.

“I was thinkin’ in the car, actually,” Rhett answers, smooth as silk. Link’s low groan is swallowed up by the announcer’s voice, welcoming Candace on stage, but from the gleam in Rhett’s eye as Link pulls back, hastily turning around to pay attention to their former employee, it didn’t go unnoticed.

Rhett keeps his arm around Link’s torso the whole time, the beer in his hand entirely forgotten. They’re gone the minute Candace steps off stage. They’ll send her a card or something later.

And in the car, windows fogging up in the cool night air, Link discovers the only thing better than the shivery feeling he gets when Rhett whispers to him is the honeyed sound of Rhett’s moans in his ears.


	5. Transit - G

Rhett and Link would be the guys on the subway who, instead of standing on opposite sides of the aisle and yelling to one another, would share a side, maybe even holding onto the same pole, Rhett’s neck curving down to hear what Link has to say, not necessarily even pressed together but the intimacy of the pose is obvious even if they’re oblivious to it.

On a bus they’d sit next to one another, not separated by a seat or an aisle, both of them squeezed into the hard plastic seats, knees bent uncomfortably but they wouldn’t dream of spreading out, not even if the bus was totally empty otherwise. and it’s not even a matter of politeness, it’s just—why wouldn’t you want to be next to the person who—your traveling companion—your business partner—the one you’re with?

They don’t even notice the looks they get (most of them fond, a little envious maybe) because they’re wrapped up in whatever quiet conversation they’re having—

Just like always.


	6. It's Just Nina With a J - G

Nina Jay McLaughlin-Neal is born at 4:47 in the morning on September 23rd, the barest wisps of dark hair curling over her sweet-smelling forehead as she wails her hello to the world. Jessie smiles as Rhett cuts the cord, so much more comfortable now than he was with Shep (he hadn’t even been able to do it with Locke, the metallic smell of blood and the shock of fatherhood staring him in the face, making him sway on his feet), and settles back on the starched hospital pillows with her sweaty hair tangled around her face. She looks beautiful, and Rhett tells her so.

Link and Christy are waiting in the room when Rhett and Jessie and Nina make their way back up, Nina swaddled in a pink and white striped blanket, a tiny knit hat keeping her head warm. The short trip from the delivery room has lulled her to sleep but she blinks awake when Rhett gathers her in his arms and makes his way across the room to where Link and Christy are waiting, bleary-eyed but smiling.

“Link, Christy, meet Nina Jay McLaughlin-Neal,” Rhett whispers.

The shocked look on Link’s face makes the last few months of pretending they didn’t have a name picked out worth it. Christy snickers quietly behind her hand.

“Nina Jay—” Link starts, “ _Nina Jay—_ ”

“Nobody would let me name her Ninja, but Christy suggested Nina Jay as a compromise,” Rhett answers, grinning from ear to ear. He presses a kiss against Christy’s temple and she leans into him briefly before rising to go check on Jessie. “Sorry we didn’t tell you before, but—”

“ _Nina Jay_ ,” says Link, wonderment in his voice. He gestures to the bundle in Rhett’s arms. “Can I—”

“Of course.”

“Hey, baby girl,” Link whispers as he takes Nina into his arms, stroking the side of her face with one shaky fingertip. “Hey, little Ninja. Welcome to the world.”

Rhett’s glad he’s already in the hospital, because he feels like his heart is expanding right out of his chest.


	7. Professionals - M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this snapchat](http://linknealismydad.tumblr.com/post/151220642730).

They don’t fuck on the bus.

Of course they don’t. They’re professionals, and they’ve got nearly the entire crew with them. Link gyrates, and Rhett watches, and Chase and Stevie collapse into giggles, and nothing else happens.

They don’t fuck at the Streamys.

Of course they don’t. They’re professionals, and the venue is crowded with their peers and friends. Even if they were to sneak away, there’s no bathroom stall big enough or corner dark enough to hide them both. Rhett drinks, and Link mingles, and they don’t end up winning, and nothing else happens.

They don’t fuck back at the office.

Of course they don’t. They’re -

Of course they -

Of -

The taillights of Lizzie’s Uber have barely faded before Rhett is pressing Link against the leather of the narrow couch in the lobby, mouthing impatiently at the skin just above the collar of Link’s white shirt. The sofa isn’t nearly big enough for both of them, so Rhett sinks to his knees and continues his attack, licking and sucking at whatever skin he can find while Link writhes under his hands.

“Took you long enough,” Link gasps, laughing breathlessly as Rhett slides his palm under Link’s shirt, up and up and up until Link’s torso is mostly bare and Rhett can get at his nipples.

“You’re a tease,” Rhett responds, hands working at Link’s belt, fingers clumsy with liquor and need. “A tease and a jerk and I should fire you.”

“Can’t fire me, buddyroll,” Link grins. “We’re a team. You don’t work without me.” To prove it, he knocks Rhett’s hands aside and unbuckles his belt, then pops the button on his fly for good measure. In the lamplight shining through the windows, his eyes are impossibly dark.

“You ain’t wrong about that,” Rhett murmurs. It’s the last coherent thing either of them says for a good long while.

They fuck in the office.

Of course they do.

But they clean up meticulously before they head up to the nap loft to sleep, because they’re professionals.


	8. Excuses - G

They invent reasons to touch, interpreting wheel endings in ways the crew never intended, anything to feel the press of skin on skin even if it’s only for a moment.

They create challenges to get close, stuffing themselves chest to back in the same shirt, taking turns wrapping their arms around each other, the hot, tight heat of proximity and need making them both sweat; trust exercises that amount to fingers laced together, hands clasped tight, keeping each other up (and why not; what have their lives been but that, just on a grand scale), foreheads pressed together and bodies so close it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

They fabricate excuses for intimacy, both of them convinced it’s the only way to satisfy the itch, neither realizing that the pretext has been paper-thin for years.


	9. Cabin Retreat - G

 ([x](https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/1751743?s=sGJLHrSh))

 

Rhett drops his duffel on the floor next to the entrance and very slowly, very deliberately looks to the cabinets-cum-stairs leading up to the low-ceilinged loft, then to Link, then back again.

“You said you wanted someplace out-of-the-way where we could concentrate,” Link tries. He can tell by the furrows on Rhett’s forehead that he’s not buying it.

“What part of that translated to ‘hobbit hole with one bed’ to you?” Rhett runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “Wait, let me guess - this was the cheapest one you could find.”

“I-” Link wants to protest, but it’s true. “What does it matter, man?” he asks, trying a different approach, because if Rhett’s going to be pissy like this all week they might as well get back in the car and head home, and Link really doesn’t want to do that. “We’ve shared beds before, and it’s not like we’re gonna be doin’ anything up there we’ll need a bunch of room for.”

Rhett coughs like he’s choking, and Link feels the back of his neck heat up. “You know what I mean,” he finishes weakly, and Rhett snorts, setting off another coughing fit.

“Whatever, man,” Rhett finally says, shaking his head, “just don’t come cryin’ to me when you hit your head gettin’ up in the morning.” He heads out the door to grab the spare blankets they’d packed just in case, leaving Link standing alone in the tiny living room.

“Gonna hit _your_ head in the morning,” Link mumbles. It’s the worst comeback in the whole world, and Rhett doesn’t even hear him.

It’s going to be a long week.


	10. Thankful - G

The Hawaiian sunset brings out the chestnut highlights in Jessie’s hair, and it makes Christy’s hair glow like spun gold. They’re standing close together by the bar on the other side of the pool, both of them in sundresses and leis, their heads bent together as they sip from the same pina colada, two straws sticking out of a hollowed-out pineapple. They’re beautiful all the time, in every light, but in the pink and purple rays of the setting sun they’re incandescent.

Link watches the kids splash in the pool, Locke and Lincoln hoisting Shep and Lando on their shoulders for a game of chicken, Lily chatting with a couple girls she’d made friends with on their first day on the island, all three of them slanting glances at a group of boys in the deep end and then bursting into giggles. They look like a bunch of punks, Link thinks, but then again, he and Rhett did too at that age.

Rhett, who’s stretched out next to him on a deck chair, hands behind his head with his straw hat covering his face. Link leans over and knocks the hat off, and Rhett squints up at him, eyebrows furrowed.

“The hell, man?” he asks, reaching down to grab his hat and place it back on his face. Link stops him, fingers around his wrist, Rhett’s skin warm under his, and Rhett stills.

“Thankful for you,” Link murmurs. “For all of -” he waves his hand, the gesture taking in their wives, their kids, the sunset, the ocean in the distance, before narrowing his focus back on Rhett. “All of this.”

Rhett’s still squinting but there’s a softness to his face, and he twists his wrist around so he can curl his fingers around Link’s, squeezing gently. “Hashtag blessed, huh?”

Link shakes his head and shoves him away, throwing the hat at his face. Rhett booms out a laugh and tugs Link’s hand back, pressing a quick kiss against the knuckles in apology.

“Thankful for you too, Link.”

“Go back to sleep, you ass,” Link responds.

“Mmm. Love you too.”

Link tilts his head up and watches the first stars appear. The sun may have gone down, but he’s the warmest he’s been all day.


	11. Monachopsis - G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach — lumbering, clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable to recognize the ambient roar of your intended habitat, in which you’d be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A leftover from the 'emotions people feel but can't explain' prompt from last year's summer ficathon.

Rhett takes to California like he was born to be there, golden-skinned and golden-haired with eyes like the Pacific on a cloudy day. He smiles more easily here, bright and beaming like a child, wide-eyed at every new thing they experience. Link watches him blossom, watches him shine, and feels very small and very dark, a shadow at the sun’s apex.

 

Which isn’t, he thinks bitterly, all that far from the truth.

Link knows they’ve done the right thing, crossing the country and upending their lives; knows it’s the right thing for their partnership, for the goals they’re trying to achieve; knows it’s probably good for their kids too, although none of them are very happy right now, angry over having to abandon their friends back home, even promises of Disneyland and beach trips on the horizon doing little to assuage the hurt. They’ll adjust, though. They’re kids, malleable and open to new experiences. They’ll be fine. A year in, and they won’t even remember the houses where they spent their first years, learned to pull themselves up on rickety coffee tables, took their first steps on lush green lawns. Lando probably won’t ever think of the east coast as anything other than where his grandparents live, a place to visit on Christmas and Easter.

Link misses the woods of North Carolina something fierce; the bristly needles of the pines, sap dripping sticky from the cones; the white buds of the dogwoods in spring; the crunch of the maple and oak leaves underfoot, brilliantly colored in shades of orange and red. The trees here, so many curving palms with their broad, flat leaves, ever-green, never changing, feel as alien and false as a movie set. He misses the icy bite of the Cape Fear river, enough to take your breath away even on the brightest days of summer. The Pacific is cold too, soaking through Link’s trunks as he and Rhett stand in the surf, but it’s a different kind of cold. It seeps into his bones, a lingering chill, not the bright clean shock of the rushing river water.

He feels himself shrinking. Rhett, meanwhile, grows and grows, taller than his precious redwoods, leaving Link lingering in the dirt, small and mean and so, so insignificant.

He hates California with a passion.


End file.
